


Taking the Risk

by PaperPioneer



Category: The Bletchley Circle, The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperPioneer/pseuds/PaperPioneer
Summary: Millie struggles to keep her feelings for Jean under control.





	1. Chapter 1

Millie’s conversation with Edward replayed in her mind as she followed Jean up the stairs in their building. Admitting to Edward that she had run away with women as well as men had been difficult, although not from fear of Edward’s reaction. The confession forced her to acknowledge her growing feelings for Jean. Asking Jean to come to America with her had not been meant as a romantic gesture, but perhaps she had subliminally run away with Jean, much to Jean's ignorance. Jean had certainly agreed out of disappointment with her career, not any romantic attraction to Millie. No matter the reason, Millie was thrilled with Jean's acceptance. Thrilled, but also worried about her ability to keep her feelings at bay. Feelings could be dangerous, as proven by Edward’s current hospital stay. She couldn't possibly put herself or Jean at risk by acting on feelings that society believed unacceptable and the law deemed illegal. 

Such thoughts swirled around Millie's mind as Jean opened the door to their apartment, holding it open for Millie to enter. Both women removed their jackets, Millie barely aware of her movements. The unexpected desire to kiss Jean was nagging at her, making it hard to focus. She had never considered kissing the Scottish woman before tonight, but now that she had she couldn't subdue it. The earlier concerns about safety, as well as Jean's possible rejection, weighed heavily on her. There had never been any indication from the older woman that she entertained intimate thoughts about Millie. This action had the potential to ruin everything between Millie and Jean. She shouldn't do it, but the impulsive part of her brain overrode the cautious side and Millie decided to kiss her best friend. The risk was great, but Millie had to know for her own peace of mind. 

Before Jean could walk further into the apartment Millie placed her fingers on the inside of Jean's wrist, causing the older woman to face her. Millie closed the space between them, their shirts brushing together, and cupped her hand under Jean's face. Not allowing herself to hesitate, she pressed her lips to Jean's briefly, her hand holding Jean's chin in place. “Thank you for staying.” She spoke when she pulled back, suddenly overwhelmed by fear. Surely Jean would see through her ruse and confront her, possibly ending their friendship. For the first time in her life, Millie hated herself for being unable to control her actions. 

Jean didn't confront her, yell, push her away, or react at all. Rather, she dipped her head, patted Millie's arm, and walked into her room, closing the door behind her. Millie exhaled, relieved that although Jean's reaction wasn't encouraging, it wasn't negative. 

Ignoring the urge to kiss Jean became more difficult after that. Now that she knew how Jean's lips felt, the softness, the fullness, she wanted to feel them again. Her thoughts were consumed with the aching desire to repeat the action. However, her courage didn't return, so she settled for a few hugs and told herself she needed to move on. She shouldn't pine over her best friend, especially after the way Susan had broken her heart. Nothing good could come from this situation. In a desperate attempt to drown her desire, she kissed Bill Bryce one evening when he walked her home. He was pleased but she immediately regretted it. He was no substitute for Jean. 

Then, Jean disappeared and Millie's world upended. Walking the streets all night, phoning hospitals all day, and filling in redacted words on the police reports left her exhausted, but she wouldn't stop. Giving up on Jean was not an option.


	2. Chapter 2

Millie held Jean's hands to assist her through the open window. After Jean was in the room Millie pulled Jean firm against her side, gripping her shoulder and caressing the shorter woman's head. “I was so worried.” She whispered into Jean's ear. Stepping away, she put her hands around Jean's face, her thumbs stroking Jean's cheek, and kissed her. It was unplanned and meant to be brief, but just before Millie pulled away she felt Jean's lips shift, lining themselves up to return the kiss. Millie savored the pressure of Jean's lips for a second longer before breaking apart. It wouldn’t do for Jean to think Millie was a pervert. She lightly squeezed the sides of Jean's neck, “Iris and Olivia are waiting.” She turned to Hailey and noticed the confused look on the younger woman’s face.

“Right, let's go.” Hailey agreed, her eyes never meeting Millie’s.

They hurriedly left the hotel, Millie holding Jean’s arm the entire time. Entering Olivia's car, Millie pressed her hand to Jean's lower back to guide the woman into the back seat, then slid in next to her, putting her arm around Jean's shoulders and grasping her hand. Sitting next to Jean, clutching her, Millie dwelled on how close she was to losing her best friend. She blinked back the tears and held tight to Jean for the duration of the ride.

Once they were safely in Millie and Jean's apartment Iris and Hailey spoke quietly to each other while sitting on the green couch. Millie sat on the white couch, staring at the wall, absentmindedly smoking a cigarette. She knew for certain that Jean's brush with death terrified her, even more than waking up in an unknown location held captive by a Maltese mafia. She couldn't lose Jean.

The cigarette being removed from her fingers startled her. “You're thinking too hard.” Jean remarked as she stabbed the burning cigarette into the ashtray.

Millie gave a small smile. “How was your bath?”

“I feel much better.”

Millie turned her body toward Jean, tucking a foot under her thigh, her knee brushing Jean's leg. She leaned over to the side table to reach the jar of ointment then tenderly picked up Jean's wrist, placing it on her lap. She listened to the conversation of the three women around her as she dabbed the ointment on Jean's wrist. When she finished she didn't let go immediately, wishing she could hold it forever. With a distressed smile, she finally released it. Jean let it drop onto Millie's bare knee, her index finger twitching against the skin.

Careful to not move her knee, Millie placed the jar back on the table. Looking up she noticed Hailey's gaze on Jean's hand. The slow retraction of the hand told Millie that Jean must have noticed as well. 

Millie was grateful when the conversation turned to the note Jean snatched from the hotel room. Translating the note, understanding the cipher, and finding the location of the airport kept her busy enough that she was unable to think of touching Jean. The desire was stronger now, driven by a fear that Jean would disappear again if Millie wasn't physically confirming her presence at all times. 

That fear grew as Jean sat in the front seat of Olivia's car on the ride to the airport. Millie wanted Jean near so that she could feel her hand, her arm, her entire presence. Reining in her concern by acknowledging that it was becoming unhealthy, Millie tried to appreciate the forced space. She convinced herself that the distance was necessary, both to curb her nearly obsessive desires, and to avoid annoying Jean before the outspoken woman grew tired of Millie's clingy behavior. 

The personal space resolve lasted until they were seated at the Big Bop, drinking Archie's best scotch. Millie contributed to the conversation with Iris, but her eyes kept drifting to Jean and Hailey huddled together at the bar. Her insides twisted when she saw Jean put a hand on Hailey's shoulder, and didn't relax until Jean moved away from the bar and sat next to Millie at the table. 

“Come here you old bag.” Millie exclaimed, pulling Jean into a hug, the comment meant to deflect from her shaky voice. She rested her forehead against Jeans, whispering, “I’ve never been so scared.”

Jean snorted, “You were abducted by human traffickers. You’re being dramatic.”

“It wasn’t the same.” Millie sat back in her chair, a smile plastered on her face. She took a drink of scotch to calm her nerves. Burying her emotions, she forced herself to make a joke, “That'll teach you to let your bun down, Jean.” 

“Or to chase some raving vagabond halfway across the world.” Jean retorted. 

Millie laughed with everyone and made a return comment to keep the conversation flowing. She spent the rest of the evening outwardly enjoying herself. However, her mind couldn't turn off the voice echoing Jean's comment about chasing her. It could have simply been a joke, and likely was. Or, as Millie hoped, it could have been Jean's subtle way of admitting that she followed Millie out of desire. 

The walk home was quiet. Jean had looped her arm through Millie's not long after leaving the club. Millie walked slow, enjoying the pressure of Jean's arm against hers. Every few minutes she would think about the softness of Jean's lips and have to push away the urge to kiss her again. 

Entering their apartment Millie announced that she was going to bed. She claimed it was due to exhaustion, unwilling to admit that she needed to sort her feelings. 

Jean responded that it sounded like a fine idea, moving toward her room. With one hand on the door, she turned back to Millie, “Hailey...” She pursed her lips together, “What do you think of Hailey?”

Millie raised an eyebrow, “I like her. Why?”

Jean tapped her fingers together in front of her waist, a sign of discomfort, “I mean about her personal choices.”

The raised eyebrow lowered into a furrow as Millie squinted her eyes, “I don't think it's a choice, Jean.”

“You're right.” Jean put her hand back on the doorknob, “Goodnight.”

Millie waited until Jean had entered her room before entering her own. The twisting feeling had returned to her stomach and now she recognized it as jealousy. As she prepared for bed she told herself that she was overreacting. Not only had Jean failed to indicate that she was interested in Hailey, she had given no indication that she was interested in women at all. 

That thought struck Millie in the heart, causing her to laugh out loud at her foolishness. How ridiculous could she possibly be? She didn't even know if Jean liked women! In fact, Jean's question about Hailey could have been disapproval. What if Jean found out about Millie's feelings and returned to England in disgust? 

Once her face was pressed into her pillow Millie allowed her tears to fall. First Susan, now Jean. When would she stop falling for unattainable women? Millie cried until she had nothing left.


	3. Chapter 3

“I couldn't sleep.” Jean pushed her teacup away.

“Neither could I.” Millie joined Jean at the table. “Do you have dreams?”

Jean nodded.

“Me too. Lucy with that creep on the train. The white door and that girl's body. Shooting Crowley. Jasper's blood. Marta's trafficking operation.” Millie placed her hand on Jean's forearm, “You being shot.” She took a breath, “You tied to that chair over those sheets.”

“Sounds like mine. There's been so much death.” Jean spoke in a measured voice. 

Millie pulled Jean into a hug. “I never should have dragged you here.” Millie leaned back, ran her thumb over the bruise on Jean's temple, and twisted her mouth in disdain. 

“I'm where I want to be.” Jean assured the younger woman.

Millie flattened her hand around the side of Jean's head, her thumb still resting next to the bruise, and pulled Jean's head toward her, softly pressing her lips to the bruise. The intimate gesture was risky but Millie was too tired to fight off her feelings. 

“Why is your face puffy?” Jean asked after Millie pulled away. 

Rising to her feet, Millie spoke, “I haven't been getting my beauty rest.” She attempted to smile, but her heart wasn't in it, “I think it's time we try to sleep.”

Without a response, Jean pushed herself up from the table. She studied Millie's face, perhaps seeing through her weak facade. Millie panicked internally, making it difficult to keep her face neutral. Whatever Jean saw she chose to keep to herself. She silently picked up her teacup, placed it in the sink, told Millie goodnight, and went into her room. Confused by Jean's conduct, and slightly worried that their friendship was derailing, Millie returned to her room. 

The diner was unusually busy the next day. Millie to struggled to make it through her shift, her tired body and tumultuous emotions contributing to her agitated mood. She wanted to be resting on the couch watching Jean knit, not serving coffee and pie in a hot, noisy diner. 

Calling home before leaving had become a requirement at Jean's insistence. She made it clear that she fretted over Millie walking home in the dark. Millie understood the fear and secretly she enjoyed the routine. There was something calming about hearing Jean's brisk voice over the phone. Tonight however, she could hear the fatigue in the Scottish woman's voice when she answered. Millie knew Jean would wait up for her, so she promised to be home as fast as she could. They both needed to sleep. 

Jean was sitting on the couch holding a book when Millie walked in. She was already in her nightclothes, which was unusual for someone as buttoned-up as Jean. Despite living together for a few months Millie had never seen Jean in her pajamas. Clearly, the lack of sleep was affecting her concern for proprietary. 

“Are you really reading?” Millie asked as she put down her purse. 

Jean shook her head and placed the book aside. 

“You're tired.” Millie said, “You didn't have to wait.”

“We've discussed this.” Jean said firmly, in opposition to her scratchy, sleepy voice.

Millie smiled softly, “So we have. Thank you for waiting.”

Jean stood and softly squeezed Millie's arm, “Do you want some tea?”

Jean's offer made Millie's heart swell with affection. Here was Jean nearly falling over with exhaustion and she still thought of Millie first. The affection quickly turned to disappointment in herself. She knew better than to get her hopes up. 

“No, I'm going to bed. So should you.” 

Jean nodded, squeezed Millie's arm again, and went to her room. Millie went through the motions for bed with her mind on Jean. After Jean's comment about Hailey she believed that any hope of a relationship was in vain. She was a best friend to Jean, nothing more. Knowing that didn't stop her heart from wishing Jean felt differently. 

Walking out of the bathroom she heard Jean cry out. “Jean?” She called, tapping on the bedroom door. Not receiving a response she tapped again and went in. “Jean?”

Jean abruptly sat up, frightened. “Oh, it's you.” 

“What were you dreaming about?” Millie sat on the edge of the bed. 

“The hotel.” 

Millie rubbed Jean's arm. Jean laid back down, “I'm sorry for keeping you up. You don't need to stay.” 

“Just another minute.” Millie yawned, and laid down on top of the blanket, “Are you okay?”

“Um-hmm.” Jean tugged on the blanket until Millie moved underneath it. She pulled it up to Millie's shoulders. Millie was instantly wide awake. Did Jean want her to stay? Her thoughts began the familiar circle of deciphering Jean's intentions. 

“Millie, are you asleep?” Jean asked after several minutes of silence. 

“No.” 

“Yesterday, about Hailey,” Jean sat up, placing her back against the pillows, “She told me she's in love with me.”

Millie sat up as well, thankful that the darkness covered her shocked expression. She didn't respond for a few seconds, her heart needing the time to start beating again, then asked, “Do you love her?”

“Not the way she wants.”

“But it's bothering you.”

“I just can't understand it. I'm much too old for her. What could she possibly see in me?”

“There's a lot to see in you! You're intelligent, beautiful. You're bloody amazing.”

“I hardly think Hailey considers me beautiful.”

Millie shifted so that she could see Jean, “Don't sell yourself short. You are beautiful.” She stroked Jean's hair, moving it away from her face.

Jean continued to stare straight ahead, not looking at Millie. “I don't want to hurt her, but I'm afraid it's inevitable. I don't feel the same. I have to tell her.”

“It will be hard, but she'll bounce back. You're a good person, Jean. She'll know that you mean the best for her.”

“What would you do?”

“Let her down gently.” Millie looked at her hands and picked at the blanket, “Since we're sharing...I kissed Bill.”

She heard Jean's sharp intake of breath, “I knew you two were a good match.” She sounded flat, unhappy. 

“Maybe. He isn't what I want though.” Millie grabbed Jean's hand, “We're a mess. Let's sleep.” She slid back down, pulling Jean with her. Jean remained on her back, so Millie curled up into the woman's side, tucking an arm around Jean's waist. “You know it's your own fault that Hailey feels the way she does.” Millie stated, her breath moving across Jean's shoulder.

“How?” Jean asked in disbelief. 

“You went swimming in your knickers with her. Poor girl never stood a chance.” Millie's tone was light, joking. 

Jean chuckled. Millie tightened her arm around Jean and closed her eyes. 

Work was better the next day. She had slept well, and was floating from Jean's laugh. At home that evening she spent some time drinking tea and talking with Jean. They wrote letters to Lucy and Alice, leaving out the terrifying details of Jean's abduction. Jean suggested writing to Susan, but Millie declined. Jean gave her a questioning look but didn't pursue it. Millie appreciated her for that. 

At bedtime, Jean fiddled with a pencil on the table. Millie watched her with curiosity. Jean was a thinker, but she wasn't a pencil tapper. 

“What’s the matter? It’s unlike you to dawdle.”

“I uh, I slept better with you there.” Jean tapped the pencil again, keeping her gaze on it as the eraser hit the table. 

Millie smiled teasingly, “Jean McBrian, are you asking me to share your bed?”

Jean blushed, “Of course not.”

Millie rubbed Jean's arm, “Give me a minute to change.”

Jean immediately appeared relieved. As Millie quickly put on her nightgown she heard Jean's movements in the bathroom. Millie waited for her to exit before going in to brushed her teeth and wash her face. Entering Jean's room she found her already in bed, nervously twisting a corner of the blanket. Millie smiled as she turned out the light, then moved into the bed. Without a word, the women resumed their position from the night before, Jean on her back with Millie pressed against her.

“Are you alright?” Millie softly asked.

Jean nodded.

“Am I too clingy?”

“No.”

Millie readjusted herself, gripping Jean’s hip, and pressing her knee on top of Jean’s thigh, careful to avoid the bullet wound. She knew she was pushing the bounds of friendship, but decided that Jean would say something if she were uncomfortable. Until then Millie was going to enjoy the moment. Cuddling with Jean gave her a spark of courage to ask a question she'd been restraining, “Jean?”

“Hmm?”

Millie pressed a kiss to Jean’s shoulder, something she didn’t plan to do and was slightly embarrassed about after, “When we talked about Hailey I wanted to know something.”

Jean laid a hand on top of Millie’s bicep, “You’ve never been scared to ask.”

“It may be outside of decency.”

“I think we’ve long left decency, dear.”

Millie sighed, the bravery slowly leaking away, “All those reasons Hailey can't love you, was one of them that you're not interested in women?” Millie could feel Jean’s body tense, “Do you like women?” Millie pushed herself up on her elbow so she could see Jean’s face, but was unable to read the expression on it. Concerned that she had gone too far, Millie continued, “Susan and I...did you know?”

“I suspected.” Jean’s voice didn’t have her usual calmness. Rather, it was tinged with uncertainty. “I do.”

Millie accepted the answer. She laid back down, ensuring that she was snuggled as close as before. She didn't want Jean to feel rejected because of her admission, but mainly she just wanted to savor the feel of Jean against her body. Millie waited for Jean’s breathing to even in sleep, then waited a few minutes longer to be sure, before whispering, “I love you.” She felt her heart squeeze in her chest, immediately certain that it was true.


	4. Chapter 4

“I met with Hailey today.” Jean spoke into her teacup from her seat on the couch.

“How did it go?” Millie sat next to Jean and placed a hand on the older woman’s thigh. The inappropriateness of such a gesture occurred to Millie shortly after, causing her to move it to her own leg.

“She’s upset.” Jean placed her cup on the coffee table.

“You did the right thing. You couldn’t lead her on.”

Jean nodded, “She thinks you and I are together.”

Millie scoffed, “But we’re not.” She maintained an affronted look despite her sick stomach. If Hailey could mistake them for a couple so could others. Millie’s carelessness about displaying her feelings could put her and Jean in danger. 

“I told her that. She said we're too close when we walk, sit, even stand. We link arms when we walk. She thinks we're hiding in plain sight.” Jean spoke in her calm, direct way as though repeating Hailey's observations was the equivalent of explaining a cipher. 

“Friends do those things.” Millie raised her voice slightly.

“That's not all.” Jean looked into Millie’s eyes, “She said we kissed at the hotel. That I was kissing you.” Jean pressed her lips together in thought, “I barely remember what happened. It’s all a blur.”

Millie remained quiet. She wasn’t sure if Jean had kissed her. It had felt like it at the moment, but Jean was badly shaken and likely reacted without thinking. Millie had certainly kissed her, but she'd rather not delve into that conversation. “That’s why she kept looking at us when I was putting the ointment on your wrist.” She finally said.

“I suppose.” Jean moved her gaze to her lap, “So I did kiss you?”

“I don't know. It all happened so quickly.”

“But you did kiss me?”

Millie felt nauseous, her stomach aching and her pulse speeding up. Admitting it would cause Jean to ask why, a question Millie was unable to answer. There was not a plausible reason for her to have kissed Jean. She could say that the relief of rescuing Jean had made her act without thinking, but then she would have to explain why kissing her best friend was a reaction at all. Jean would surely hate her if she found out that Millie enjoyed the feel of their lips together. Worse, if she found out Millie was in love with her she may leave, breaking Millie's heart. However, she couldn't bring herself to lie to Jean. Unable to trust her words Millie simply nodded. 

“Why have you been kissing me?” The words were released slowly.

“You're my best friend.” Jean narrowed her eyes in either confusion or disbelief so Millie elaborated, “It feels natural.” That was true. It was harder to resist kissing Jean than it was to do it.

Jean didn't acknowledge the answer. “Are you hungry?” She asked instead, standing to walk toward their small kitchen counter.

Millie let go of the breath she was holding. She responded that she wasn’t, stating that work had been tiring and she was going to lay down. Truthfully, she worried she would faint from the surge of emotions her body just processed.

Sleep didn't come easy to Millie. Understanding her own thoughts was complicated but not nearly as much as understanding Jean’s. The woman hadn't approved of Millie kissing her, but she hadn't told Millie to stop. Did that mean she enjoyed Millie kissing her, or was she simply too polite to say no? Perhaps it simply didn't bother her, accepting it as normal social procedures, truly believing Millie’s best friend excuse. Millie doubted that Jean was so gullible, she was far too intelligent to not see straight through Millie's weak reasoning. It was far more probable that Jean wasn't sure what to make of Millie's behavior and was choosing to ignore it. 

Millie was no longer able to deny that she loved Jean. However, that information was best kept to herself. Whispering it to Jean while she slept had not been wise. She could have heard, been outraged, and worse, she could have rejected Millie. Millie knew this, feared these consequences, and still wasn't able to successfully suppress her feelings. 

Fretfully, Millie drifted to sleep until she was woken by Jean's light knock on the door, “Millie?”

Without opening her eyes, Millie mumbled for Jean to enter. She heard the door open followed by Jean’s footsteps across the floor. Millie pulled the blankets back on the empty side of her bed, inviting the other woman to lay down.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” Jean whispered as she lay next to Millie.

Millie rolled over to tuck her arm around Jean’s waist, “You’re never a bother.” She may be conflicted about her feelings, and Jean's reception of her feelings, but she would never deny comforting Jean.

Millie felt Jean’s lips press against her forehead. She kept her eyes closed, struggled to control her breathing, and felt her heart banging inside her chest. As her pulse returned to normal Millie felt the disappointment take over, certain that she was reading too much into the gesture. Undoubtedly, Jean was expressing nothing more than appreciation. 

It took Millie nearly an hour to fall back asleep. In the morning she woke with her body partially draped over Jean’s. Her face was against Jean’s neck, her left leg thrown over Jean’s thigh, and her right breast pressed against Jean’s left. She could feel Jean’s arm under her side, her hand pressed against Millie’s lower back. Millie was tempted to stay in place, regardless of the consequences. The combination of desire, embarrassment, and fear forced her to finally move away. Careful to not wake Jean, she removed herself from the bed and prepared herself for another emotionally difficult day.


	5. Chapter 5

Millie walked home quickly, telling herself with every step that Jean was fine. She had to be fine. There could be any number of rational reasons for Jean to have not answered the phone when Millie called. However, those reasons eluded Millie as the fear propelled her toward their apartment. Rational thought wouldn't be an option until she laid eyes on Jean. Not after the events that had followed the last time Jean hadn't answered a call. 

The worry turned into full-fledged panic when she entered the apartment to find Jean not there. Dropping her purse and jacket on the floor, she spun around in a circle between the phone and the door, then stood in the center of the room with her hand over her mouth. She didn’t know what to do.

Indecision raced through her mind. If she called Iris at this hour it would disturb the woman’s entire family. Hailey would be the better person to ask for help, but the younger woman had been avoiding both of them since her confession to Jean, no doubt from embarrassment. Millie took several deep breaths, paced in another circle, and decided to call Hailey anyway. Jean was more important than Hailey’s pride.

Striding across the room, she snatched the phone off the base and put her finger on the dial. The door opened at precisely the same moment and Jean walked in, oblivious to Millie’s turmoil.

“Jean!” Millie yelled, stretching the name into two syllables. She slammed the phone down and crossed the room. A foot away from Jean she ranted, “Where have you been? You order me to call home and then you don’t answer! I break my neck to get here, worried to death about you, and you stroll in like you were out for a bloody Sunday walk!” Millie’s hands were shaking as she erratically waved them between the two women in anger.

“I’m sorry.” Jean put down her purse and removed her jacket, her voice calm.

“That’s not good enough! What the hell could you possibly be doing that you couldn’t call?” Millie continued to yell.

“I was with Hailey.” Jean picked up Millie's purse and jacket from the floor and put them with her own, then moved to the couch in an attempt to avoid Millie’s wrath.

“Hailey has a phone!” Millie’s voice raised an octave higher. She was unable to articulate the fear she felt and was failing to calm herself down.

“I’m sorry.” Jean stated again.

Millie let out a long, frustrated breath. Placing a hand on her hip and the other on her forehead, she leaned her head backward. She wouldn’t cry about this. Jean was home safe. Everything was alright. She took a few seconds to gather herself, allowing her breathing to slow and her heart to stop pounding, then joined Jean on the couch.

“No, I’m sorry.” Millie mumbled, “I was so scared.”

Jean grabbed her hand, “I thought I would be home in time.”

“You're here now.” Millie could feel the adrenaline slowing dissipating, ”How is Hailey?” 

“She says she’s fine.” Jean rubbed her thumb over the back of Millie’s still shaking hand, “I really am sorry.”

Millie leaned back against the couch, her body deflating. She closed her eyes in an attempt to regain her composure. 

“You don’t believe she’s fine?” Millie asked, her eyes still closed.

“I believe she will be. She’s hurt.”

Millie nodded. She felt Jean shift closer to her on the couch, her leg pressing against Millie’s. Millie kept her eyes closed to prevent Jean from seeing the desire in them. A second later she felt Jean’s head against her shoulder and her arm around Millie’s waist. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jean spoke again.

“I know.” Millie opened her eyes and kissed the top of Jean’s head, wrapping her arms around the woman’s body. Millie knew she shouldn’t enjoy holding Jean but was reluctant to let go, desperate to enjoy Jean’s uncharacteristic affection.

“You kissed my head when I was shot.” Jean’s voice was low, as though she were scared to upset Millie again.

“Sure, you remember that kiss.” Millie joked. She felt Jean smile against her shoulder. “I thought we’d lose you.”

“No such luck.”

“Nonsense.” Millie wasn’t aware of her feelings for Jean when they were still in England, but the thought of losing her had been unbearable just the same. She felt Jean smile again.

Neither woman moved as they fell into a comfortable silence. Millie told herself to move away, to physically distance herself from Jean, before she did something that would irreparably damage their friendship. In order to avoid that it would be necessary for her to shut off her feelings. Unfortunately, it was impossible when the subject of those feelings was wrapped around her. Her heart overpowered her brain and she held Jean tighter.

Yawning, Jean suggested they go to bed. She silently hoped Jean wasn’t disturbed by nightmares. Of course, that hope was for Jean’s mental well-being, but more-so because Millie didn’t trust her body in bed with Jean. 

That fear crumbled the instant Jean came into her room a few hours later. Millie rubbed Jean’s arm briefly, waiting for the tension from the nightmare to leave Jean’s body, then for the first time since their arrangement, turned her back. Perhaps if she didn’t face Jean she wouldn’t wake up in another compromising position.

If Jean noticed anything peculiar about Millie’s position she didn’t comment. Millie convinced herself that Jean probably appreciated the break from Millie clinging to her like a baby koala. Fully aware of Jean’s body just inches from hers, Millie had trouble falling asleep. Finally, she surrendered to her desire and rolled back over, slinging an arm around the woman’s waist. She fell asleep in minutes.

Millie was woken by Jean’s hand slamming onto her face. Startled, she sat up and placed a finger to her stinging lip, wiping blood away.

Jean made a whimpering sound and kicked her leg. Millie forgot about her lip and gently touched Jean’s shoulder. “Jean. Jean, darling. Wake up.” She shook Jean’s shoulder a few times before the woman woke. Opening her eyes, Jean looked at Millie in the darkness.

“Millie?” Jean asked, her voice cracking.

“I’m here.” Millie pulled Jean to her, lightly rubbing her back. Jean briefly pressed her hands into Millie’s back, clutching their bodies together. Millie could feel Jean’s breasts pressed against her own and reprimanded herself for noticing. Jean needed comfort. Now was not the time for improper thoughts. 

“I’m sorry for waking you.” Jean pulled away and curled onto her side, her body still shaking from the dream. Millie pressed herself along Jean’s back and wrapped her arm around Jean’s waist, forgetting her earlier resolve to keep space between them.

“You’re safe.” Millie whispered into Jean’s ear. Jean squeezed Millie’s hand in response. “These nightmares are my fault.”

“They most certainly are not your fault.” Jean huffed.

“If I hadn't talked you into this trip none of this would have happened.” Millie pressed her fingers against Jean’s side, needing to be as close as possible, “Did you really chase me here?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but because I’m here or because England had nothing left to offer you?”

“Bit of both.”

“Why’d you stay?” Millie could still feel the emotion she felt when Jean was unpacking her trunk to stay. Her eyes had burned with the tears she was holding back. Jean had been more reluctant to touch back then and it took all of her self restraint to not embrace the woman. That was the first time she was aware of her feelings changing, the urge to never let Jean go.

“For you.” Jean’s answer was simple. Millie had to hold back the tears again. She pressed a kiss against the side of Jean’s neck, decency be damned.

Getting ready in the morning, Millie studied her lip and decided to forego her lipstick. It would only make the cut more pronounced. Sighing, she put the tube on her dresser and left her room.

Jean was preparing breakfast. She had been gone from the bed when Millie woke, leaving Millie to anxiously wonder what position Jean had found them in. “What happened to your lip?” Jean asked, looking at Millie. “It didn’t look like that last night.”

Millie unconsciously touched her finger to it, “I hit it.”

“I don’t understand what you could have hit in the middle of the night.” Jean narrowed her eyes at Millie, unsatisfied with the answer.

Millie shrugged. She stepped past Jean to pick up a cup.

Jean pinched her lips together, her eyes widening in realization, “Did I hit you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Millie poured tea, and looked at the counter, keeping her cut lip out of Jean’s view.

“It does matter.” Jean snapped, “Why would you blame yourself?”

“Oh, Jean.” Millie breathed in exasperation, “I don’t want you to be upset. It’s nothing, really. Just a minor cut.”

Jean eyed Millie dubiously, “I should sleep alone.”

“Don’t be silly.” Despite her earlier fears of embracing Jean inappropriately Millie's stomach twisted at Jean's comment. Guiding the conversation away from her lip, Millie asked, “What was the dream about?”

“I could hear the silencer screwing onto the gun barrel.” Jean closed her eyes at the memory.

“We’ll get through this.” Millie assured her, squeezing Jean’s forearm before pulling her into a hug.


	6. Chapter 6

Millie stared at the bar through the bottom of the bourbon glass. Archie had stopped asking if she needed anything after she rudely told him to pay attention to his other customers. Later, she would apologize to him. For the moment she only wanted to drown her complicated feelings about Jean in solitude.

A purse plopping on the counter made her look up. “Iris!” She exclaimed as the woman sat on the stool next to her, “Why are you here?”

“Archie called. Said it looked like you could use a friend.”

“Humph.” Millie took a drink of her whiskey and shot a dirty look at Archie’s back. “I told him I'm alright.”

“You gonna tell me that too?” Iris nudged Millie with her elbow.

“I am, really.” Millie sighed, “I just needed a bit of space.”

“From Bill?”

Millie shook her head.

“Can't be Archie.” Iris nodded at the man as he walked across the room with a tray of drinks. 

Millie slowly spun her glass in a circle. If she refused to participate in the conversation perhaps Iris would give up and leave.

“Jean?”

Millie gave a small, pained smile. Iris was not going to give up. “I think she could do with a break from me.”

“I doubt that. What happened?”

Millie took another drink, “We had an argument.”

“You two bicker all the time.” Iris shrugged.

“This was different. Angrier.” Millie spun her glass around again.

Archie walked over to fill Millie's glass and placed a gin in front of Iris. He told the women to call if they needed anything before walking away. Millie remembered she needed to apologize after he was gone. It would still wait until later.

“About what?” Iris asked.

Millie didn't respond for several seconds. She tapped on the sides of the glass with her fingertips, recalling the words she exchanged with Jean. Finally, she looked at Iris and said, “it started with who’s responsibility it is to go to the market. She said she didn’t come here to be my housekeeper. Seems that she's upset that she cooks and cleans, especially my messes. She doesn’t think I help enough. Then we went on to argue about who works the most and who is the most exhausted.” Millie turned back to the bar and took another drink.

“Marcus and I have those spats. Sometimes I just want to feel appreciated. I know Marcus loves me but it's nice when he thanks me, or does something to help, like taking the kids out for a few hours. Simple gestures make all the difference.”

“I make tea for her.” Millie argued.

“So sweep the floor too.” Iris said simply, “That can't be the only reason you’re so upset.”

“We’ve been fighting often. Not our usual back and forth, but genuine fights.”

The women fell into silence again. “Can I ask you something?” Iris tentatively asked.

Millie nodded.

“You and Jean have many domestic disagreements.”

“Is that a question?” Millie snorted, “We've been friends for years. We're comfortable enough to speak our minds.”

“I spoke with Hailey.”

Millie bit her lip, glanced at Iris, but didn't respond.

“You know what happened between her and Jean.” Iris paused, “My question,” another pause, “When you were bickering with Jean about Nigel Beamish, was that truly because you think he's an idiot or were you jealous?”

“Jean can do better than that fool.” Millie huffed and rolled her eyes.

“You are jealous.” Iris coolly stated.

“And you don't approve.” Millie smirked, the anger slowly rising inside. She didn’t need Iris’ judgment to compound her already confusing thoughts about her and Jean.

“Actually,” Iris lowered her voice, “I just think wallowing in jealousy is unbecoming. I thought you two were a couple until Hailey told me you weren't.”

Millie hadn't expected that response. She felt her body relax, the desire to defend herself against Iris gone. “How is Hailey?”

“Heartbroken, but she'll recover.” Iris placed a hand on Millie's arm, “Am I wrong to believe you feel more than friendly toward Jean?”

Millie picked the glass up and tapped it on the bar a few times as she weighed her answer. “You saw what happened to Edward. I don't want that for Jean. Or for me.”

“I'll take that as a yes.” Iris patted Millie's arm, “Have you and Jean ever discussed it?”

“No!” Millie nearly yelled, her eyebrows shooting up.

“I saw how you cried for her when she was missing. She means a lot to you.” Iris spoke softly and patted Millie's arm again, “I think you’re afraid to lose her and that's why this argument over chores is bothering you so much.” 

Iris’ accurate assumption shocked Millie into silence. 

“Jean follows you.” Iris continued. 

Millie scoffed, “Jean is not a follower. She's more independent than all of us.”

“She followed you here. She stayed with you. She follows you every time you bellow 'Jean, come on' at her.” Iris smiled, “She does follow you.”

Millie rolled her eyes and shook her head, “I'm just headstrong. Jean has learned to ignore it.” 

“You two should talk about this.” 

“You assume Jean wants to talk.” Millie sighed. 

“I think she will.”

Millie let her thoughts take over, memories of conversations she'd had with Jean, touches they exchanged. “Well in that suit he'll buy whatever you're selling” Jean had told her when she had dressed nicely for Bill Bryce. But, Jean had pushed her toward Bryce, practically sold her in exchange for information. So, the compliment was possibly more of a practical statement than Jean appreciating Millie’s appearance. However, Jean never stopped Millie from kissing her, and had even initiated a kiss, albeit not on the lips. Millie smiled at the memory of Jean's lips touching her forehead.

“You won't know if you don't try.” Iris' voice broke through Millie's thoughts.

“You're right.” Millie hugged Iris. Grabbing her purse, Millie dropped money on the counter for Archie and quickly exited the Big Bop to rush home.

“Jean!” Millie burst through the door, slamming it behind her, “Jean!”

“Why are you shouting?” Jean asked from the couch, folding the newspaper she had been reading and placing it on the coffee table.

Millie dropped her purse on top of the paper and her coat on a chair, then sat next to Jean, leaving barely an inch between their legs.

“Jean.” Millie said again.

Jean looked at Millie with expectation but didn’t speak.

Millie took a deep breath. “If I were to kiss you, would you kiss me back?” That wasn't what she meant to start the conversation with, but she couldn't take it back.

Jean looked surprised, “That’s what sent you in here like the police were after you?”

“Would you?” Millie pressed.

“You kiss me all the time.” The surprise had morphed into confusion.

Millie stood and walked around the room, creating distance between herself and Jean. “Are we really just best friends?” She asked with her back to the other woman.

“Millie,” Jean spoke softly, “I’m twelve years older than you.”

“I don’t care about that.” Millie wrapped her arms around herself, her thoughts focused on how wrong she had been. She was so sure Jean would kiss her.

The room was silent, although Millie doubted she would have heard anything over the throbbing of her pulse. She wasn’t aware of Jean’s approach until she felt the hand rubbing her back.

“What’s going on?” Jean asked.

“I love you.” Millie blurted, then immediately paled, “Did I just ruin us?” She looked away from Jean, unable to face the rejection.

“Never.” Jean stepped in front of Millie, “Where did this come from?”

“It’s been building for a while.” Millie answered, moving her head the other direction to still avoid looking at Jean.

Jean nodded, “Kiss me.”

Millie turned to Jean then, her mouth slightly open, “What?”

Jean ran a finger along Millie's jawline. “I want you to kiss me.”

Millie didn’t move. She had kissed women before, she had even platonically kissed Jean, but suddenly she was apprehensive. Did Jean realize how much this would change everything between them?

Jean moved her hand to Millie’s shoulder and gently pulled Millie toward her. Millie stared into Jean’s eyes. Of course Jean knew the aftermath of this. She was the most intelligent, thorough person Millie knew. She didn’t make whimsical decisions.

Millie put her hand on the back of Jean’s neck, stroking her thumb behind Jean’s ear. She felt Jean encouragingly squeeze her shoulder in return. Pushing away the doubt by focusing on her desire, Millie pressed her lips to Jean’s. The feel of Jean’s lips was not a new sensation, but Millie still reveled in it as though it were. The pressure from Jean’s lips and the feeling of Jean’s hand sliding into Millie’s hair caused Millie’s hand to tremble against Jean’s neck. It was more than she could have ever imagined.

Jean moved her free hand to Millie’s lower back and pulled the woman tight against her body. Millie felt their breasts touch and gasped against Jean’s mouth. This time, without the dreariness of a nightmare interfering, Millie was able to enjoy the feel of Jean’s chest against her own.

Slowly, Jean pulled her mouth away. Her arm stayed in place, keeping Millie’s body firmly against her own. Millie took deep breaths while running her hand over Jean’s exposed collarbone. As her pulse slowed she gripped Jean’s shirt collar with her fingers and put her forehead against Jean’s.

“Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Jean quietly asked. She moved her hand to Millie’s hip to allow space but didn’t move her body away.

“We’re fools.” Millie kissed Jean again. “Although, I’ve been doing it for ages. You didn’t seem interested.”

“I didn’t what to make of it. You acted as if all friends did it. I thought I was too Scottish to understand you Brits.”

Millie laughed. Wrapping her arms around Jean's shoulders, she kissed the woman again.

“I’ve been falling in love with you for over a year.” Jean mumbled against Millie’s mouth.

Millie kissed Jean harder. She was shocked that Jean had been aware of her own feelings longer than Millie. Knowing how conflicted she had been since discovering how she felt made her understand the struggle Jean must have been going through.

“When did you know?” Millie asked when they were again resting their foreheads together.

“When you came back from the Maltese. I was upset with you, berating you for stupidity, and you cried. I felt horrible. I knew then that I was more upset than I would have been of it had been Lucy or Alice. The thought of losing you really shook me up.”

Millie wrapped her arms around Jean. She pressed a kiss against the side of Jean’s head and held her tight. “I knew when you stayed here. It had felt like my heart was breaking when you said you were leaving. Watching you unpack I realized that the thought of staying here without you hurt more than anything.

“I felt that same heartbreak when you said you weren’t returning to England.” Jean responded, “We really are fools.”

Millie laughed again, “Yes.” She squeezed Jean against her. They would have to discuss their relationship and the secrecy necessary to maintain it, but it could wait. For now Millie just wanted to enjoy her newfound affection with Jean.


	7. Chapter 7

“This is a surprise.” Jean commented as she exited the bookstore to find Millie waiting. 

“I was on my way home.” 

“This isn’t on your way home from anywhere.” Jean smiled despite her apprehension. 

“So, I came to see you.” Millie shrugged. 

Jean looped her arm through Millie’s as they began slowly walking home. “Did you enjoy the day off?” 

“I cleaned and went to the grocery. All in all I’d say it was rather productive.” Millie grinned, proud of herself. She had been putting a considerable effort into assisting Jean with chores, although she still would not cook. Jean seemed happy that Millie was contributing with the cleaning and shopping, appearing to be unbothered by Millie’s reluctance to assist in the kitchen. Millie mentally told herself to thank Iris for the advice.

Jean squeezed Millie’s arm as she lightly bumped her shoulder into the taller woman in a show of appreciation. 

“Also,” Millie lowered her voice to avoid being overheard by passerby, “I spoke with Bill, told him we couldn’t continue.” 

Jean didn’t respond for several seconds, “How did he take it?” 

“He thinks I’m seeing Archie. I didn’t change his mind.” 

Jean released a quiet hum. Millie assumed it was dissatisfaction with her choice to lie by omission. Jean couldn’t possibly be threatened by the thought of Millie dating Archie.

The pressure of Jean’s arm against her own gave Millie a feeling of contentment. After months of agonizing over how she felt about the other woman she was finally free to enjoy the feeling without guilt or confusion. It wasn’t uncommon for her and Jean to walk arm in arm. However, it was the first time that they were walking in public not as two middle aged friends but as paramours. The thrill of flaunting their secret in the streets made Millie smile. 

Their conversation turned to Millie’s shopping trip as they meandered home. They spent the evening reading. Jean was quieter than usual but didn’t seem to be upset with Millie. Millie was tempted to ask about the other woman’s solemn manner but decided against it. Jean would tell her when she was ready. 

In the morning Jean remained quiet. She had stayed in her own bed during the night, leaving Millie disappointed yet hopeful that Jean didn’t have any nightmares. It was unlike Jean to be contemplative without an obvious reason.

Millie watched Jean maneuver around the small kitchen area. Her movements were sharp and she avoided eye contact with Millie. Trying to be patient, Millie reminded herself that Jean would talk about it when she felt it was time. However, Millie didn’t have the patience required to wait, finally asking Jean if something was bothering her. 

Jean responded that she was fine, placing a plate in the sink, refusing to look at Millie. Millie watched as Jean washed the plate, giving herself time to decide if she was going to press the older woman for a better answer. As Jean dried the plate Millie decided she was. 

“Come on, Jean. You’re not acting yourself.” 

Setting the plate on the counter with a small exhale of air, Jean met Millie’s eyes. They stared at each other in silence, Millie trying to read Jean’s emotion, Jean seemingly gathering courage. 

Millie crossed the room to Jean, standing inches from the other woman’s side. “Did I do something?”

Jean shook her head, pursed her lips, and asked, “Have you considered going with Archie?” 

Millie blinked in shock, “Archie? No.”

“Maybe you should.” Jean stepped away from the counter and Millie, moving to the table and placing her hands on the back of a chair. 

“Why? I’m with you. I want to be with you.” Millie fiddled with the buttons on her waitress uniform. She couldn’t name the feeling taking over her stomach but she didn’t like it. She felt sick. 

“He would be better for you. You wouldn’t be lying to Bill, he owns a business, and he’s closer to your age.” 

“I’ve told you I don’t care about the age!” Millie struggled to keep her voice from rising.

“What about my body? I have a roll under my chin, fat fingers, a mushy middle, everything’s wobbly. I move slow.”

“Move slow? You took a bullet in the leg!” Failing to keep her voice steady, Millie moved to the fireplace, picked up a hairband, looked into the mirror, and jerked her hair into a ponytail, “Your body is beautiful. Nothing is mushy or wobbly except your brain when it doubts my feelings for you. Your fingers are not fat, they’re strong. I love holding your hand.” 

“Millie,” In contrast, Jean’s voice remained calm and confident, “We’re not on the same roads.”

“That's what you said when you wanted to go back to England.” Millie pleaded, spinning to face Jean, “I want to be on your road. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

“I don’t want to change who you are. You’re a gypsy.”

Millie chose to apply her lipstick rather than respond, looking back at the mirror. Her hand was shaking with anger, causing her to abandon the attempt. Turning to face Jean again, she angrily stated, “You said that before too! I can’t give up. I’m too far gone already. Clearly, much more than you are about me.” Millie slammed her lipstick tube on the fireplace mantel, “I have to go to work.” She stormed past Jean, slamming the door as she left.

It wasn’t until she stepped onto the sidewalk that Millie let the fear replace the anger. She and Jean had discussed their feelings only two days ago and already they were falling apart. She strode to work in an air of forced anger, desperately trying to cling to that emotion rather than the fear or heartbreak. 

The anger returned as she mulled over the conversation at work. She couldn’t understand Jean’s sudden change of mind and certainly wasn’t going to let Jean push her off on another man as she had done with Bill. The renewed anger propelled Millie through her workday. 

Millie’s shift ended an hour before Jean’s so she used the time to walk around town and process the conversation she had with Jean. The sudden switch in Jean’s desire to be together was confusing. Had she lost interest in being with Millie that quickly? Had she never been with a woman? Millie was fairly positive that wasn’t true. Jean didn’t seem to have any hesitation about kissing Millie, a woman. That left Millie believing she had done something to put Jean off. 

Millie walked for over an hour, reflecting on her last few days with Jean and what she could have done to make Jean unhappy. Nothing recent was coming to mind. It was possible that Jean was still angry about Millie’s venture into the import-export business, but that was long over. Jean had never said so, but perhaps she didn’t like Millie smoking. That was easy enough to quit. It didn’t require the end of their short relationship. 

Millie’s thoughts chased each other around, never finding a suitable answer to her internal question. After she was certain Jean would be home, and before she worked herself into an emotional whirlwind, she made her way home. 

Millie entered the apartment to find Jean at the table writing what appeared to be a letter. Turning her back to Jean, Millie removed her jacket and put down her purse. After taking a breath to steady herself, she turned around to face Jean. The older woman had moved from the table and was now standing near the couch. 

“Can we talk?” Jean asked as she extended and curled her fingers, revealing her nervousness. 

Millie nodded and sat on the sofa. Jean sat close to her, leaving only a few inches between them. Millie wasn’t sure if the closeness was due to Jean’s lingering desire or if it was merely so natural for them to have limited personal space that Jean didn’t notice. 

“I'm afraid,” Jean explained, “You can do better. Bill and Archie are infatuated with you. Why would you chose me?”

Millie hadn’t factored fear into the possible reasons Jean was pulling away from her. Relief flooded her as she understood Jean’s reasoning for the mornings conversation. Fear was something she could alleviate. “I am not interested in them I can assure you.” Millie intertwined her fingers with Jean's, “I couldn't possibly want anyone else, not after falling so hard for you.”

“It’s,” Jean didn’t finish her reply, looking at her lap in shame.

“I’m afraid too,” Millie put her fingers under Jean’s chin, lifting it to look into her eyes. “I hate that we have to hide. I want to be able to hold your hand without the fear of what happened to Edward. Still, I would rather be with you in secret than not be with you at all.”

“There’s that. The danger of it all.” Jean grabbed Millie’s hand from under her chin, squeezing the fingers as she lowered it to her lap. “More so, the thought of us being together without clothing as a barrier makes me insecure.”

“We won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You can stay clothed for as long as you like. Forever if you want.” 

“That’s not what I want.” Jean exhaled, “I’ve never been with a younger woman.” 

Millie laughed, “It’s been ages since I’ve been considered a younger woman.” She pulled her hands from Jean’s and placed them on Jean’s cheeks. Gently, she leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Releasing Jean’s face she moved her hands to the older woman’s hips, “You see how my hands fit perfectly here?” Millie tugged Jean's blouse out of her skirt, noticing the way the older woman's breath hitched. She slid her hands under the blouse and back to Jean's hips. “You're perfect to me.”

“That couldn’t possibly be true.” Jean uncharacteristically mumbled. 

“I have many flaws, but I’m not a liar.” Millie gently squeezed Jean’s hips. 

Jean gave a small, rueful smile, “Of course you’re not.” 

Millie leaned forward to brush her lips against Jean’s. Jean did not hesitate to return the gesture, leading the women into a long, passionate kiss. Millie slid her hands up to Jean’s ribs, pulling Jean’s upper body closer to her own. 

After several minutes Jean pulled away, “You won’t decide I’m too old and leave?” 

“No.” Millie kissed Jean again, “I love you. I love your eyes, your fingers, your intelligence, your smile, your bun. I’m staying.” 

“I love you, too.” Jean ran her fingers across Millie’s cheek, “Your lipstick is smeared.” 

Millie laughed, “I know. It’s all over your face.” She removed her hands from underneath Jean’s shirt and pulled the woman into a hug. “No more pushing me off on every available man in the area. I want you.”

“You have me.” Jean returned the hug, holding Millie against her body. 

Millie couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She and Jean were going to survive. Being in a new country with a new job and a new relationship was working out better than Millie could have ever hoped. Pleased, Millie held Jean tighter, finally from genuine affection rather than fear.


End file.
